


four seasons (eastside)

by sjnsdipity



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Age changes, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Confessions, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 10:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17723510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sjnsdipity/pseuds/sjnsdipity
Summary: Jisung will look over at Minho and see that Minho is a risk he’d be willing to take over and over again, until there was nothing left.the one where jisung learns what it means to be accepted and fall in love.now playing:benny blanco, halsey & khalid - eastside





	four seasons (eastside)

**Author's Note:**

> SO i fucked w the ages a little!! minho here is only a year older than 2000 line, so he’s the same age as changbin. woochan are still 1997 line, then changho as 1999, and then 2000 and jeongin stay the same. this was purely bc it made writing easier!! part of the title is taken from eastside by benny blanco, halsey, and khalid!! 
> 
> also  **trigger warning**!! jisung's parents are homphobic!!

They meet in the fall. Actually, they meet on Jisung’s birthday, and it was all because of Felix. 

Jisung had befriended Felix the year before. The other boy, a transfer student from Australia, had been having trouble at school because of the language barrier. Jisung, who could speak English because of his parents, agreed to help him on the condition that he could come over and play video games with Felix sometimes. Felix, of course, agreed.

His friendship was Felix was the start of Jisung’s opening up. He’d been raised on the Westside, was labeled one of the _Westside Rich Kids_ at first, until the others realized that none of the other rich kids liked him, and he returned the feelings. _He’s different_ , they’d say, _he was raised like us but he’s not_ like _us._ And obviously, being different wasn’t acceptable for them. That was when the others started treating him like a normal person for a change instead of one of the snobs.

His parents expected him to be good at everything. They were forty-something with cubicle jobs, a steady and good income, a big house, a white picket fence, and a child they could push all of their stress on. They didn’t believe in the arts unless it was something classical. That’s why they lived on the Westside. They wanted him to be perfect—he could play piano perfectly, he was a straight A student, in student government, did volunteer work, but they still didn’t seem to think that he was good enough.

They sheltered him, so when Felix asked if he wanted to go to his dance practice instead of playing video games on his birthday, he agreed.

“How much longer?” Jisung whined, basically wheezing as Felix pulled him along by the arm. “You never told me we’d be walking so much! You walk this far every time you have practice?”

Felix laughs, throwing his head back, and the sun lights his face and lets Jisung see the freckles lining his cheeks like angel kisses. His skin, sunkissed, glows golden in the light, and Jisung is envious of him for a moment. “Not every time,” He explains, “Sometimes Minho picks me up. But his car is… Well, it’s kinda trash. You’ll grow to like it.”

Jisung’s heart warms. Felix is talking like his friends will like Jisung automatically, and that he’ll spend enough time with him to let Minho’s shit car grow on him. It makes his throat tight, and he forces himself to clear it. “I’m sure I will,” He replies with a grin.

He lets Felix talk his way through the rest of the walk, until eventually, they stop in front of a building on the corner of a busy street. It’s decently large, made of brick, and the outside is covered in colorful graffiti. He spots Felix’s name next to a six colored rainbow and smiles to himself. The doors are glass, allowing him to see into the building, where a young looking boy sits at the front desk, a smile on his face as he types on his phone. The sign, he notices, doesn’t say _Dance Studio_ , but instead just _Studio._

“Just ‘Studio?’’” He asks, letting Felix lead him in.

The blonde boy nods. “Yeah, there are some recording studios too! This is where Chris and Changbin hang out. Seungmin and Jeongin from school come here sometimes too.”

Jisung knows about Chan and Changbin. His parents talk about them all the time, about how they’re ruining something good to pursue music, but Jisung disagrees with them. He thinks it’s cool. The two of them were only a little older than Jisung, and had went to his school. He knows Jeongin and Seungmin, from school, and looking again at the boy at the front desk, he recognizes him as well. The wonders of living in a small town.

“Woojin, right?” He asks, and the boy looks up from his phone with a softer smile.

“Yeah. Jisung, I remember you.”

Woojin had been there when Jisung first started learning piano. He was only three years older than Jisung, but he’d been practicing for longer than Jisung had been alive, so whenever Jisung was having problems, they would send Woojin in to help him because they were closer in age. Woojin had also went to the same high school as Jisung.

“Nice to see you again,” He calls over his shoulder as Felix drags him away and down a hallway lined with black doors.

He comes to a stop in front of one of the doors closer to the end of the hallway, covered in sketches and scribbles in metallic Sharpie. Jisung doesn’t hear the music coming from inside until Felix opens the door, and figures that it must be sound proof. “Hey!” Felix shrieks, and one of the two standing boys runs to pause the music. “This is my friend Jisung! Today’s his birthday, and—”

The one with longer hair brushes his bangs from his eyes and smiles. “Felix, we know Jisung,” He says, and now that Jisung can see his face, he realizes that it’s Hwang Hyunjin. Glancing around, Jisung sees that he knows all of the rest of the boys too.

Sitting up against the mirrored wall and playing on his phone is Kim Seungmin, with Yang Jeongin laying next to him on his stomach, scribbling something in a notebook. Felix had mentioned that they came, but he didn’t think that they would be there today. The other one in the room, watching him with dark and curious eyes, is Lee Minho.

His parents talk about Lee Minho the most, and with a certain forcefulness that they normally don’t have. They think that Lee Minho is a good for nothing boy who’ll never get out of the town, that his passion—dancing—will never lead him anywhere. They hate the boy, which Jisung thinks is pretty dumb. They’re adults, what right do they have to judge someone only a year older than Jisung for wanting to get out of their shit-hole hometown?

He wonders how the others got here so quickly if they had school too, but then he remembers seeing the powder blue beat-up car parked outside, and figures that Minho must have picked them up.

“That’s what happens when you live in an idle town,” Seungmin mumbles, and Jisung laughs in spite of himself.

“Everyone knows everyone and it fucking sucks.” They’re all looking at him now, and it’s making him a little self-conscious. “What?” He asks, crossing his arms unconsciously over his stomach.

Minho cracks a smile for the first time since Jisung walked into the room. “That’s like, the first time any of us have ever heard you say a cuss word.”

Jisung finally remembers that, despite the fact he wasn’t like the other Westside Rich Kids (and _yes_ , the capitalization _is_ needed), it doesn’t mean that he talked to everyone. He can’t recall ever holding a full conversation with anyone in the room, except for maybe Jeongin, but _everybody_ liked Jeongin. “Oh,” He says blinking.

“Happy birthday!” Jeongin says suddenly, snapping Jisung from his stupor. “Can we go get ice cream? I want ice cream.”

“Ice cream?” Seungmin asks, finally looking up from his phone. “From the shop on the corner of Fifth and Turner?”

Jisung feels helpless, turning to look at Felix with wide eyes, but Felix is grinning toward Minho and so is Hyunjin. Minho, the oldest in the room, rolls his eyes, but his smiling. “Only because it’s Jisung’s birthday,” He swears, “I’ll cancel practice just for today.”

“Hey! My birthday is tomorrow, are you gonna cancel practice then, too?”

“Sorry Felix, this is _your_ birthday gift too.”

Jisung lets Jeongin tug him back out of the building and he piles into the powder blue car, which he was right, it was Minho’s car. As he rides in it, he sees why Felix called the car trash.

The brakes make an extremely high pitched and long squeaking noise when pressed on too hard, and Minho seemed to have a lead foot. The air conditioner sucked and only the heat worked, and it wasn’t quite cold enough for the heat yet, so they rode with the windows down. Jisung didn’t mind that part. Hyunjin and Jeongin fought for the front seat (Jeongin won, because he was _Yang Fucking Jeongin)_ , and Jisung was squished beside Seungmin in the backseat. He had a window seat, so he stuck his arm out and let the air flow through his fingers.

They rode with the radio on, the latest songs playing through the radio, and Seungmin’s singing rang quietly in his ears, nearly drowned out by Felix’s screeching. “You’re good,” Jisung told Seungmin softly as they got out of the car, and he noticed the other boy’s smile grow a little brighter.

The ice cream shop, it turned out, was tiny and a hole-in-the-wall, but it was homey. It was on the Eastside, and Jisung didn’t really visit there because of his parents, so he’d never been before. There were photos stuck on every inch of the walls, of customers and animals, and of the city, and Jisung examined them with a smile on his face. Glancing around, he noticed a red stain on the ceiling and decided that he wouldn’t ask.

“Hey, Changbin!” Felix cried, and Jisung blinked his eyes away from the stain. “How are you?”

The boy at the counter, looking more different than Jisung had ever seen him, was certainly Seo Changbin. He had on a pink apron, but his earrings and undercut still made him look a little scary. Jisung was surprised. The Seo family lived on the Westside, not far from Jisung, and in an even bigger house than his own. Changbin came from a rich family, but here he was, working in a hole-in-the-wall ice cream shop in the Eastside.

“Hey Felix,” He said, voice and eyes soft, and Jisung only felt more confused.

“They aren’t dating,” Minho told him quietly, a knowing smile on his face. “Not yet.”

Jisung smiles at him. He already knew that Felix was pansexual. The other boy was open about it at school, and he was out to his parents. Jisung’s own parents didn’t know about Felix, which was the only reason they still let Jisung hang out with them. Jisung’s parents were homophobic. Closed minded and dull when it came to topics like sexualities.

Jisung kept to himself that he was gay, even if it felt like he was living a lie when they asked if he found a girlfriend at school and he changed the subject.

“Jisung, what flavor would you like?” Changbin asks, and he realized that he’d zoned out for a bit.

He panics so he orders what he used to eat when he was a kid. “Mint chocolate chip with gummy bears on top,” He blurts, and Changbin blinks at him as Felix bursts into giggles at Jisung’s shoulder.

“That’s… That’s new.” Changbin turns away to start making the ice creams, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

The others lead him to a booth next to one of the windows, and Jisung goes back to looking at the pictures on the wall next to him. He looks closely at one of two boys holding hands on top of the table, bright grins on their faces, and feels his heart ache a little. He shakes it off and looks at the next picture instead. “Is that you guys?”

The picture was clearly taken recently, because Felix’s hair was blonde and he’d only died it about three months ago. There were seven boys in total at the table, all faces that he knew well from school. Chan, Woojin, Seungmin, Jeongin, Hyunjin, Changbin, Felix, and Minho. They all had toothy grins on their faces, ice cream on their cheeks, and bright looks in their eyes.

“That was on Changbin’s birthday this year,” Felix tells him, “In August.”

Jisung grins and wishes he was part of the picture as well. They talk about everything and nothing until Changbin comes with their ice cream, handing Jisung’s to him with a dramatic flourish that makes Jisung laugh.

 

. . .

 

That day is the start of it. 

For months after that, Jisung goes with Felix after school to the studio. He hangs out with Seungmin and Jeongin while Hyunjin, Minho, and Felix practice, even hanging out with Woojin at the front desk sometimes. He meets Chan eventually, and the other boy looks at him with eyes that are too old for his age. He grows to cherish them all, and they become his best friends in what seems like the blink of an eye. They take him in, treat him like one of their own, and he’ll never stop being grateful to them.

As fall shifts to winter, they play in the snow with him. Woojin gives him a bruise because he accidentally rolled a stone into his snowball, and it makes Seungmin laugh so hard he cries. All nine of them get sick because of it, but Jisung wouldn’t have it any other way.

As winter shifts to spring, Jisung goes to school one day and finds a purple flower in his locker on top of his books. As he looks around the hallway, he spots Jeongin grinning at him, a delicate looking blue flower tucked behind his ear. Felix, Seungmin and Hyunjin are all next to him, the same grins on their faces. There’s a yellow flower crown in Felix’s hair, and blue flowers matching Jeongin’s twisted into Seungmin and Hyunjin’s hair. Jisung tucks his own flower behind his ear with a warmth in his chest.

He learns from them, learns new skills and what it’s like to have actual friends who love and accept him for who he is. Changbin teaches him how to rap, and Chan starts teaching him how to produce music, and they’re both surprised to find that Jisung is actually pretty good at it.

_(“What the fuck, have you been practicing or something?” Changbin asks, staring wide eyed at Jisung and then back down at the lyrics Jisung had wrote._

_Jisung gives a mischievous smile and mimes zipping his mouth closed.)_

He spends the most time with Minho.

There’s something about the older boy that makes him feel comfortable. He can talk to Minho for hours and never get bored, he could tell Minho anything about himself, about his deepest fears and biggest dreams, and so he does. They talk on the phone for hours at night despite the fact that Jisung _hates_ talking on the phone, and sometimes Jisung falls asleep as Minho’s voice echoes on the other side of the line.

He lets Minho start teaching him how to dance despite his fear of looking dumb.

( _"Y_ _eah, but that’s the thing, Sungie,” Minho tells him, moving his arm to form the correct angle. “If you’re scared of something, the only way to stop being scared is to just do it.”_

_Jisung thinks about that for a long time. He also thinks about how Minho’s fingers felt around his wrist, how Minho was proud of him for something as tiny as getting a sequence right that he’d been working on for a week.)_

 

. . .

 

Somewhere between May and June, their relationship shifts with the change from spring to summer. 

Jisung has taken to sneaking out of his window to meet Minho at the playground in the Eastside. His parents never notice, because of course they don’t, and he’s always back before six when they come to wake him up for school.

This night was no different.

He stuck his leg out the window, glad his bedroom was on the first floor and his parents’ was on the second. He walks for a while in the muggy air, fog disturbing his vision, but not badly. The weather is changing with the seasons. He sends a text to Minho when he gets far away enough from his house, and then he hears the loud squeaking of Minho’s brakes—the reason Minho couldn’t pick him up at his house instead of a few blocks down. 

They end up at the playground like they always do, Jisung sitting in the swing third from the left and Minho behind him, pushing him on the swing. Like always. The familiarity of it all feels like home, not that Jisung would admit that out loud.

“So?” Minho asks him after a moment of silence. “How was your day?”

Jisung smiles, looking up at the stars. “It was okay,” He shrugs. “School was good. Jeongin bought me a cookie at lunch because I did his math homework for him, and Felix told me— _Oh,_ yeah, my Pysch test! I got a 82!” He loves talking to Minho because Minho is proud of him for things like this. His parents would’ve looked at him, like _you can do better_ , but Minho gives a quiet cheer and pushes him higher. “Then when I got home, my day started sucking, but that’s pretty normal.”

His parents had a lot to say at dinner. About “ _those gay boys at your school.”_ They’d finally found out about Felix, and about Jeongin and Hyunjin at the same time. None of what they said was particularly kind, and Jisung hated himself for staying quiet about it as his parents berated him for hanging out with them. It didn’t mean he was going to stop.

“I just don’t get why. Why does it matter to them if someone is attracted to men, or women, or both, or neither, I really don't understand. Love is love, and who my friends love have to do with my parents’ lives. Imagine what they would say if I ever told them I’m gay,” He scoffed, and then bit down on his lip harshly. He’d never, _ever_ , told one of the other boys about his sexuality. They probably guessed, though.

Minho didn’t comment on it, only pat Jisung’s shoulder next time he pushed him. “I don’t get it either,” He says, quietly and seriously. “I’m lucky that my parents accept me, I know that I’m lucky, because most people don’t get the same thing. I’m sorry about your parents, Sungie.”

Jisung sighs, putting his feet down and skidding to a stop. He turns to look at Minho over his shoulder, smiling at the way the moon rains down on him in a shower of silver light. The stars reflect in his eyes like they belong there, and Jisung is starting to think that maybe they do.

“I don’t want you to apologize,” He murmurs, and Minho’s eyes meet his. “I never want you to apologize for _my_ parents. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, but it’s not fair to you that you have to live with that.”

Jisung makes sure to keep his voice even. “And it’s not fair to you to feel guilty over something you can’t change.”

Minho’s eyes stay locked on his, and Jisung feels a sort of warmth start at the tips of his toes and flood all the way up to his brain, clogging his thoughts with _minhominhominhominhominho._ He’s not really complaining. He’s noticed, during their late night playground trips, that Minho looks the prettiest in the starlight—especially when he’s driving, and the wind is making his hair all messy, and he’s singing along to the song on the radio, then he turns to look at Jisung with that _smile_ , and _fuck._

 _Fuck_ , Jisung thinks to himself, _I have feelings for Minho._

That night, Minho presses a kiss to Jisung’s cheek before driving away.

The next week, they stick a picture on the wall at the ice cream shop, next to the one Jisung pointed out during his first visit. The only difference between the two is that Felix has vibrant orange hair, matching Jisung’s (his parents had a fit), and Jisung is tucked under Minho’s arm with a blissful smile on his face.

 

. . .

 

Jisung confesses his feelings for Minho in the middle of the summer.

They’re in the middle of the ice cream shop, Felix with his upper body slung over the counter and making heart eyes at Changbin, who’s making ice cream, while Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Jeongin have an argument about something Jeongin had said on the car ride there. Woojin and Chan sat this one out, back at the studio for some _“Alone Time_ ,” but Jisung knew they were actually making out on the couch in Chan’s studio.

There’s more than just them in the ice cream shop, though, there are two other boys tucked in the corner, one that Felix had greeted with a loud “Eric!” when they walked in. There’s also a family of three, a mother and her two daughters, laughing and filling the shop with a certain joy that Jisung hadn’t felt from a family in a long time.

Jisung is sitting next to Minho in the window booth, the older of the two watching the three boys sitting across from them like a tennis match. Neither of them can really understand what they’re saying—the three of them speak a language all on their own, words flowing between them like a river. Jisung wonders about their relationship, all three of them, but he never asks them.

Jisung is watching Minho. There’s sweat rolling down his forehead even though the air conditioner in the ice cream shop is all the way up. His sleeves are rolled up, hair pushed off of his forehead while Jisung’s own is blocking his vision with orange. His skin is darker now, bronzed by the sun, his hair lighter, bleached by the same thing. Summer suits him.

“Hey.” Jisung doesn’t mean to say it but he does. Minho hums, turning to look at him, and every intelligent thought in Jisung’s head flies into the sun. All he can think is how pretty Minho looks like this, how comfortable he feels, how he’s in the Eastside and his parents would probably disown him if they knew what he was about to do. “I like you,” He blurts, feeling his face grow pink like the cotton candy skies.

Minho’s mouth drops open a little, and Jeongin makes a squeaking noise that lets Jisung know his words had stopped their ongoing conversation. “You— _like_ like me?” Jisung couldn’t help but laugh, the words were so childish, and definitely not what he expected. “I was hoping you felt the same.”

His laughter cut off with a choked noise, and he stared wide eyed as Minho took his hand. He definitely wasn’t processing anything, not even Changbin groaning out “finally!” from the counter loudly to be heard over Felix and Jeongin cheering. All he knows is that Minho is holding his hand even though his palms are sweaty, and Minho likes him back, and _Minho._

Their relationship comes easy, comes comfortable. Words came easy between them, words that had been so long overdue they felt almost _too_ easy to say. Words like “you’re beautiful,” or “I really like you,” or “let me hold your hand,” and Jisung’s favorite, “Can I kiss you?”

To Jisung, kissing Minho is like galaxies. It feels like kissing sunlight, and moonlight, and starlight all at once, like everything good in the universe is focused on Jisung. Minho is the stars, he’s _every_ star, and when Jisung kisses him, he tastes stardust. Minho is fucking _made_ of stardust. He’s going to return home someday, as one of the stars, but not in the literal sense. He’ll make it big, Jisung knows this, but he’s not so afraid of being left behind.

He knows that Minho would never leave him behind.

 

. . .

 

Jisung’s life falls apart in Winter, January more specifically. So maybe his life doesn’t _fall apart_ , that’s a little dramatic, but it definitely changes. 

It happens at dinner, and Jisung isn’t really paying attention. He inserts a comment occasionally to make them think that he’s listening, but he’s really thinking about how nice it felt when Minho looked at him like he’d planted the stars in the sky. Minho made him feel appreciated, made him feel like he didn’t have to be perfect, and— 

“—that Minho boy,” His father was saying, voice vicious. “He got into more trouble when he was at school than any other person I’ve ever known. He’s not worth anything, and he never will be. Same with that other boy, what’s his name? Byungchan?”

“Bang Chan,” His mother interjects, nodding her head. “Him and the Seo boy. Music and dancing will get them nowhere.”

Jisung tenses up, hand clenching into a fist around his fork. The cold metal is shockingly cold. He’d been recording music with Chan and Changbin, he’d been letting Minho teach him how to dance, and he really enjoyed it. “And why not?” He asks through gritted teeth. “Weren’t you the ones who told me that people can do anything if they put their minds to it? Isn’t music what you had me trained to do at a young age?”

His parents share a surprised look, clearly not expecting him to say anything in defence of the older boys. “Well, you’re _classically_ trained,” His father points out, like that changes anything.

“Okay, _and?_ ” He’s never talked to his parents like this. Ever. “If Chan, Minho, and Changbin—not _the Seo boy_ , he’s his own person—want to follow their dreams, who are the two of _you_ to judge them for it? What dreams have _you_ chased?”

They’re starting to look offended now, and some part of him is satisfied in a twisted sort of way. He hasn’t gotten them this mad since he told them he wanted to stop taking piano lessons. “We had you, didn’t we?”

He scoffs at that, shaking his head and letting his fork fall from his trembling fingers. It clang against his plate with a noise deafeningly loud in the tense silence of their house. “ _I_ was your dream? That’s funny. I just seem like a reputation raiser for you.”

“Jisung!” His father scolds, “You know that’s not true.”

Jisung stands, chin raised and fire lighting his eyes. “Do I, though? You think that by making me perfect at everything, the others will see you as gods, but they won’t. Minho is braver than the two of you ever will be. You shouldn’t even be allowed to say his name.”

“You don’t know _anything_ about that boy,” His mother hisses, voice hostile suddenly.

It’s almost funny, the way they think they know him. “No, you don’t know anything about _me._ I’ve been friends with him for a year.” Their faces fall, and his father starts to say something, but Jisung cuts him off. “I know him better than I know either of you, and I’ve known _you_ for eighteen years. What kind of parents are you if I don’t even know you, huh?”

“You _will not_ talk to your parents that way.” His mother wasn’t even talking to him anymore, she was reprimanding him, like she was talking to a fucking baby.

“I’m not a child!” Jisung told them with a humorless laugh. “I’m eighteen years old! I’m don’t _want_ to be like you guys! I don’t want to have the perfect wife, and house, and white fucking picket fence, and a perfect child! I don’t want to be forty years old and feel like I never got the chance to live my life! I don’t want any of that!” His parents stare at him, horrified now, and he knows that was a low blow. He also knows, though, that they cared more about their reputation than they did for him.

“Han Ji—” His mother starts, standing up with her hands on the table, but he doesn’t want to listen.

“I don’t even want a wife! Do you not see that! I’m gay, okay!” His father flinches, and it hurts even though he knows it was coming. His mother collapses back into her chair. “I like boys! And I know you’re both so fucking closed minded that you’re going to tell me that it’s just a phase, and it’s not what I want, but it is! _Minho_ is what I want! We’ve been dating for months, and you didn't notice because you don’t fucking care about me! I’ve been sneaking out of the window and you didn’t even notice!”

They’re both looking at him, and his chest is heaving with each shallow breath he takes. Fuck, he can’t even breathe. It hurts, but he know that he hit the nail straight on the head. He makes sure to slam the door so hard the frames rattle as he runs out of the house.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he goes. He runs and runs and runs, until his legs fucking ache, and his lungs are burning, but not from the cold air. He blinks as he realizes where he is, thanking his subconscious for always leading him home. There’s a layer of ice settling along the seats of the swingset, but he sits down anyway, third swing from the left.

Jisung takes a moment to bask in the cold air, letting it clear his lungs of the red hot fury that had filled them. He tilts his face toward the moon, counting all the stars he can find in clusters of fifteen. He waits until he can breathe properly again to text Minho.

 **sungie** : hey can you come to the playground  
**minho** : why are u at the playground??? did u walk there??  
**minho** : jisung??  
**sungie** : can u just pick me up  
**sungie** : and bring a blanket or smth

He sits there on the swingset, his ass freezing but he’s happy for the familiarity of it. Even more so when the screeching of Minho’s brakes meet his ears, followed by quicky footsteps and Minho calling his name.

“Jisung!” Minho calls, hopping over the fence instead of going through the gate like a normal person. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” There’s a hoodie thrown over his arm, one of his big oversized ones that Jisung always wears, and he’s quick to pull it over Jisung’s head, ruffling his hair in the process.

Jisung blinks up at him as he pulls his arms through the sleeves. “I… I had an argument with my parents,” He says. “I didn’t want to be in the house. Can we go for a drive?” He starts to sit down, but Minho pushes him back down with gentle hands on his shoulders.

“Not until you tell me what happened.” Jisung frowns at that, even as Minho walks behind him and begins pushing the swing gently.

He doesn’t want to tell Minho what happened. He doesn’t want to tell _anyone_ what happened, because he doesn’t want to talk about it. If he talks about it, that makes everything he said and did real. He’d come out to his homophobic parents. He’d told them that he and Minho were dating, that he’d been sneaking out almost every night, that he knew they didn’t care about him, and he’d left before they could deny any of it. And if he knew anything about his parents, they wouldn’t deny it.

But this is Minho. Minho, who Jisung knows like the back of his hand. Minho would listen to him, hear him out and give him an honest opinion, not some sugar coated bullshit. He can tell Minho everything, can let him in on secrets that he would take to the grave before he told anyone else.

So he lets tucks his feet and holds so tightly onto the icy chains of the swing that his knuckles turn white. It takes him a while to explain to Minho, mainly because he keeps stopping to gather his thoughts, tucking and untucking his hands into the sleeves of the hoodie. Minho listens, still pushing the swing and humming every once in a while, and he never interrupts Jisung to tell him off or make some comment. By the time Jisung finishes what he’s saying, he’s screaming at the stars.

Minho is silent for a moment, until he sighs and pulls the swing to a stop. The metal creaks, carried by the wind in a sort of haunting song. He stares at his feet until Minho kneels in front of him, and he looks the other boy in the eyes. “You didn’t need to defend us like that.” Jisung grimaces. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful. I know how long you’ve been keeping that inside, and I knew that you were going to snap soon. I’m glad you finally told them.”

He wraps Jisung into a hug, and Jisung lets it ground him. He melts against Minho, tucking his face into his neck and wallowing in the warmth of him. “Can we go for a drive now?” He asks, and Minho laughs softly against his hair.

In the car later, Jisung will roll the windows down as it begins to snow. He’ll stick his hand out and catch snowflakes that melt on his fingers, let the cold air wash over him, and he’ll sing along to the radio. As the car passes the city welcome sign, he’ll lower it by two in his head, even though he knows they’ll come back.

Jisung will look over at Minho and see that Minho is a risk he’d be willing to take over and over again, until there was nothing left.

Jisung will realize, a little belatedly, that Minho is his home.

**Author's Note:**

> so this is probably one of my favorite things ive written ever, even though it’s kind of a mess but either way i hope u liked it!! come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hufflelix) !!


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